NYSC Toilet Trials …. Part 2

I managed about a week before constipation had me convinced my heart was about to fail.

In my desperation to find a place to poo, I snuck out of camp in the dead of the night to a leafy but lonely bush across the road.

If only there was a Portaloo on the campsite I would not be in this awful situation. I might even have to suggest that the organizers of the camp must hire some portable toilets in the future.

Now another week later, I found myself in the same predicament.

Sneaking out again was too risky since I got caught by a soldier on my first try. I spent the whole of this week wracking my brains for a place to poop when I happened on the perfect place completely by accident.

I’ve been attending the HIV/AIDS and Reproductive Health awareness training on camp because it’s something I feel really strongly about, and an innocent question this afternoon about where to pee led me to the perfect clearing behind the National Christian Corpers Foundation prayer ground.

Not wanting to raise the suspicions of the person who had showed me the place, I thanked her, innocently peed, and left.

As soon as lectures were over, I raced to my dorm and grabbed my pooing bucket ( I have two, one for laundry/bathing that bears my name, and one expressly for pooping that also has my name but also the word ‘Unchi’ – Poo in Japanese to make it impossible to detect – for easy identification ) and I raced back to the clearing, hoping night wouldn’t fall by the time I was done.

To my dismay, when I got there, the prayer ground was already full of eager fellowshippers, thumping their Bibles and praying loudly.

I pretended to have forgotten something and wandered through the praying ground as though looking for something but really I was making my way to the other side so I could slip behind the curtained stage.

I momentarily wondered if I looked too suspicious clutching a bucket this far from any source of water but the weighty lump in my stomach made me press on.

Once I got to the clearing, I hesitated. There was so much grass and foilage everywhere. I had a very real fear that a snake might bite me as I squatted helpless to poo.

Setting up my bucket and nylon was fairly easy. I had perfected the method since the last time I did it, and this time I had the advantage of daylight unlike before when I had to do it under the cover of darkness.

I even brought extra nylon bags to spread on the floor and place my things so I didn’t have to clutch them in my hands.

Settling onto the bucket, I opened my copy of The Art of Seduction and hoped that my starvation policy of one tiny meal a day would translate into a smoother experience this time around.

I was wrong.

I pushed so hard catarrh came out of my nose.

I was heaving and huffing and puffing. I would have cursed but I was sure the corpers praying nearby would hear me and come investigate.

After a fucking eternity, this massive turd plopped into the bucket and I felt an incredible sense of relief.

Suddenly, the bucket collapsed beneath me, sending me flying backwards, arms flailing, legs in the air, the turd I’d just forced out launching out of the bag towards me.

The book I’d deceived myself I could read while pooing landed inside the anthill. My horror could not be more complete.

It took an entire roll of tissue to clean up and even then I still felt dirty. Night was falling and my original fear of being bitten on the ass by a snake was becoming more and more likely the longer I lingered there.

I hurriedly gathered up my things and straightened out the walls of my bucket best as I could and made my way out of there.

I tried to walk quickly past the fellowship members, using my hair to shield my face. Inside I wondered if they were judging me for desecrating their fellowship ground.

Fortunately, it seemed they were too busy binding and casting to notice me or care.

Two times I have tried to go in this camp but it’s obviously a feat beyond my mental strength. I’ve made up my mind already.

Somehow I MUST get my Exeat card signed and get out of here.

There won’t be a third time.

I’m coming home.
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